The journey from Earth to Qo'noS on board the passenger ship had taken several days, during which time Worf had mostly remained in the small cabin allocated to him, reading up on the customs of the people he had not had any contact with since he was six years old, and meditating to try and quell the nervousness he felt. Now it had just been announced that they had finally arrived. With his belongings securely contained in the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he paused in a corridor to look out of a window at the mint-green globe of the planet of his birth, the darker mass of the great continent of Kling set amid the vast oceans. As a child he had been too young to fully appreciate its' beauty, but now, after so long...

It had been fortunate that the Rozhenkos, seeing their foster son's yearning to spend time with his own kind, had been able to establish contact with Worf's distant relatives and make the necessary arrangements for him to spend a month on the Klingon homeworld. They had insisted on accompanying Worf to the spaceport, wishing him a good journey and a pleasant stay. "Do not forget to contact us when you are settled in at your cousins'," Helena Rozhenko said to him as they gathered near the departure terminal, dabbing at her wet eyes.

"Of course I shall, mother," Worf had replied. "You have my word." As he grasped hands with Nikolai, he said to his brother "I wish you well in my absense, brother, and...I hope you conduct yourself in an honorable manner, and stay out of trouble."

Nikolai had shrugged sheepishly before responding with "Take care of yourself, Worf. I look forward to seeing you again." A minute after he left them, Worf had stopped and turned to see all three of them still standing there and waving. He remembered wishing they could come with him so he could show them the wonders of his home planet.

Upon beaming down to the surface of Qo'noS, Worf's sight was instantly arrested by the view through the Klingon spaceport's giant transparisteel window of the ornate towers and collosal domes of the First City, the ancient capital of the planet. Here was the seat of power for the whole Klingon Empire, the dwelling place of mighty leaders and heroes, its' very foundation the blood of untold ages! As Worf walked forward, it seemed as though the metropolis sang to him songs of glory...glory he was born to partake of! He was about to draw a deep breath and let loose a roar of celebration, when a voice at his shoulder suddenly said "Worf, son of Mogh?"

Startled, Worf looked sideways to see a male Klingon standing there observing him. "That is my name," he stated warily. He had been told before coming here that his family had enemies in the Empire, and some of them still lived, and would no doubt threaten him were they to find out he was here.

"I am Guvash, son of Lokev," the other Klingon replied. "I have been sent to meet you."

Worf relaxed, recognizing now his half-cousin. "I am sorry, you caught me unawares," he said apologetically.

Guvash watched him closely. "Yes," he said after a brief silence. "Let us hope it does not happen again. I have a hovercar waiting outside. chotlhej." Without waiting for Worf's response, he turned on his heel and began striding quickly in the direction of the exit, not even looking round to see if Worf was still with him until they reached the vehicle.

The ride through the city was a largely quiet affair. Feeling the silence growing tense, Worf decided to try and open conversation. "I intend to undertake the first Rite of Ascension while I am staying with you. I look forward to your family attending the ceremony."

"I am glad," Guvash responded, not even glancing at Worf sat beside him. Nothing else was said for the duration of the journey.

OOOOOOOO

The last of the kor'dava candles was lit, its' small flame flickering bright and steady and filling the chamber of Guvash's home with a heady scent, as Worf stood in front of those who were the closest to family he was ever likely to know. There stood Guvash with his mate and young son; and there was his sister, B'Korla, and her daughter. Also present for Worf's first Rite of Ascension was a somewhat more familiar face: Huraga, a grizzled veteran warrior who had been a close ally of the House of Mogh. Worf was grateful Huraga had heard he was here, and had come all this way just to see the boy who had sat with him and Mogh and listened enraptured to their stories and songs take his first step on the path to becoming a warrior himself. He was sorry Huraga could not stay beyond tonight, even if he did have little else to talk about other than the time Mogh had aided his family against the House of Duras.

And now it was time for him to make the oath. Facing the rest of them with his head held high, he called out "DaHjaj yInwIj taghtaH. SuvwI jach vIQoy. vItlha' vIneH!" This was met by a collective shout of "Qapla'!" from those assembled.

As Wor's cousins and there offspring began to file out of the chamber, Huraga approached Worf with a big grin on his face, and clapped his hands firmly on Worf's shoulders. "majQa', Worf," he said, "Your parents would be proud of you. Here, I have something here I have wanted to give you for a long time." Reaching into his tunic, he drew forth a very skillfully wrought knife and held it out, handle first, to Worf. "Take this as a token of my respect."

His eyes wide with amazement, Worf reverently took the fine weapon in his hands. "Huraga..." he said softly. "You honor me with such a magnificent gift! Thank you!"

"No, Worf," Huraga replied, "Thank you. And now I am afraid I must take my leave of you; duty awaits on board my ship. May you find honor and glory!"

OOOOOOOO

Worf retired to the room given to him by his cousins early that evening, shortly after Huraga left, having felt fatigued following the long day. But lying on his bed alone, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, his head full of myriad thoughts, unable to sleep. He had already transmitted a message to his human parents back on Earth, yet still he felt restless. He had risen and was traversing the hallway when he heard the voices of his cousins coming from the main room just around the corner, and stopped to listen. "I do not know why he even bothers," Guvash was saying. "A Klingon who has lived for so long among tera'nganpu' can never become a true warrior! His very presense is laughable!"

It was B'Korla who spoke now. "You speak truly, brother. What was it he drank...prune juice? Ugh! That is not the drink of a Klingon! And as for that so-called rokeg blood pie made by the Earther he calls mother...va! That old fool Huraga must be out of his mind if he believes Worf can ever make it as one of us. I tell you now, Guvash...I do not even like him being around our children. Who knows what weakling Earther values he will corrupt their minds with?"

"At least he will not be here for very long," Guvash sighed. "The sooner he goes back to the Federation, the better. In the meantime, we have little choice bu to tolerate him."

They went on talking, but Worf was already nearly out of earshot as he slowly walked back down the hallway. Silently, he closed the door of his room behind him and sat on his bed, his mind replaying over and over what he had just heard. So, that was what they really thought of him; not one of them, merely something to be 'tolerated.' And sitting there he wondered if his cousins may be right. Was he the fool for coming here, thinking he could ever fit in with them? He glanced at the blade Huraga had given him, now doubting if he really deserved it. And what of humans - did he belong with them? Worf brooded all through the night, more alone than ever before.